Gordoth Of Tamriel
by Gordoth
Summary: Read it! It's long and going to be about 100k words, so don't save your time, because it will pay (I guess). Gordoth, a nord, wakes in a prison cell, remembers nothing of his past and is acompanied by a lizardy creature. How could this end?
1. Chapter 1: Nords

**A/N: Hello! This is the first chapter of a long, LONG adventure I am planning on typing. So, most of the info on nords I got from the wiki and in-game books. Hope you like it, REVIEW and enjoy!**

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"Wake up!" The voice was deep and unrecognizable. Gordoth opened his dark brown eyes, looking up at the man speaking. He was tall and wasn't merely human. It was a strange creature, lizard - like, with red eyes, green skin, horns instead of hair and a tail. He was wearing ragged clothes, nothing more. Gordoth felt hard stone under him, stood up and examined his surroundings. They were in a prison cell. The lizard man had a little spoon in his hand, wich was kind of covered in dust, sand and stone particles. The lizard man smiled, revealing his sharp teeth and lend him a hand.

"Aren't we ssleepy? You are the new one, aren't you?" He asked. His voice changed drastically, becoming raspy. Gordoth sat on the stony bed, next to the lizard and shook his head.

"Who are you? And why am I here? I can't say I remember anything..."He said. His voice was deep, strong and calm, making it suitable for a leader. Or the Nord he was. The lizard nodded and sihted.

"That'ss lesss than sstrange. I think you atleasst know what your name iss, what are you and you know how to write? Alsso, you are in jail because you ssimply did a crime and didn't have money to pay your debt. Ssimple ass thiss, but if you assk me why am I doing thiss, I mean digin' a hole with the sspoon, it'ss becausse I have been here for more than five years. And I don't want to sstay here. So, that conludess it all." The lizard said. Gordoth scratched his long black hair and sihted. He was in jail, remembered nothing of his past and was stuck with a... Talking lizard.

"What iss your name, Nord?" The lizard asked. Gordoth shot his head up and stared in the eyes of the lizard, sihting again.

"I remember they know me as Gordoth. How could I call you... err..." He asked. Because of not knowing the race of the strange humanoid infront of him, Gordoth just stopped, confused. The lizard smiled.

"Hah, ok Gordoth, I am an argonian. They call me Trotriss." He offered a hand. Gordoth looked at him, unable to understand the gesture. After ten seconds, Trotiss removed his hand and laughed.

"Umm... Trotiss, can you tell me of the place we are in now, explain me what you are and how many races exist in this... Place." Gordoth said. He was like a little kid asking it's mom for what a thing it has never seen and wanted to know what it was. The Argonian smiled.

"So, I am going to be a teacher, eh? Oh well, I got exhaussted from diggin'. Let me tell you. In thiss moment we are in the Imperial city'ss prisson. It is located in Cyrodiil, the center of Tamriel, The continent where we live. Racess now. First of all, Imperialss. They come from Cyrodiil. Ssecond, Bretons. They come from High Rock. Third, the Orcss. They live... Near mountainss! Fourth, the Redguard. They come from Hammerfell. Fifth, the Altmer. They live on Ssummersset Issle. Sixth, the Bossmer. They live in Valenwood, foressted place. Seventh, the Dunnmer... Those live in Morrowind. Eighth are the Khajiit. They are cat people, live in Elssweyr. My race livess in Black marsh, while yours in Sskyrim. Done." The explanation Trotiss gave was quite interesting. Gordoth wanted to know more about the Nords.

"Trotiss, can you tell me more about the Nords? I want to know more." He said. The argonian looked at him and smiled.

"I am not a Nord to know. You should assk an expert. Or another Nord. But firsst, we have to get out of here. You know, I think that if we dig together, we might get out fasster, eh?" His answer was. Gordoth nodded and walked after Trotiss, who jumped in a hole under the bedroll. The nord followed, looking at the prison door. None would see they were absent. He fell in darkness, heard the steps of Trotiss and walked after him. When the argonian's steps stopped, Gordoth freezed. He heard a switch and dim light lit the tunnel, revealing the argonian holding two spoons, two more probably for Gordoth.

"Take thosse and dig north. I know you Nordss are pulled by your cold place, sso it wont be hard to follow." He whispered. Gordoth simply walked, or crawled, next to the wall and tried to feel the north. It was a strange feeling, as being lightly pulled by a really thin rope. He started digging in that direction, his strong hands destroying the dirt with ease. The argonian joined shortly after.  
Two hours passed. They kept digging, digging and digging. Untill they heard water. Then, Trotiss stopped Gordoth from continuing.

"Wait. There iss water in front of uss. We musst dig... Up." He said, pointing up. Gordoth only nodded and started digging up. It was harder, but payed. Upon ramming the dirt once more, Gordoth revealed light. Sunlight. He dropped the spoon and grabbed the dirt with his hands, decapitating it. And light shone over them, bathing the rugged friends. They climbed over and looked at the river infront of them. Trotiss smiled and walked towards the water. He looked back at Gordoth.

"Ssorry, my friend, but I will be leaving now. Take care and go back to Sskyrim." With this the argonian simply walked in the water and Gordoth didn't see him again. The nord rushed after a minute, sprinting towards the water to help Trotiss, because he would have started drowning. He didn't find his friend. Gordoth was amazed by the fact the water didn't feel cold to him. He swam north, to Skyrim, the water didn't make him feel bad or uncomfortable. It was just... Water. The tall man reached the shore and removed his top, wich was ragged as his pants and shoes. He headed forth, walking slowly and silently. The first thing he saw were the ruins of a temple, white and marbled the stones were. He didn't know what or who lived around the temple, but there were bed rolls. Gordoth avoided close contact, thinking it might be bandits. Feeling his stomach rumble, he knew that it was necessary to find something to eat, so he headed for a town. He walked on a road, civilized thing, then reached a city. It was big, surrounded by walls and with a chapel as top building. He walked towards the gates and the guards immediately stopped him.

"Who are you? Why are you wearing such clothes?" The first one asked. He was around forty five years, older than Gordoth, had a short beard and bald head. His sword rested on the belt, while his shield was in his hand. Gordoth scratched his head, thinking of an answer.

"My caravan was attacked by bandits and they took everything. I was left alive, but they stole even my clothes so I had to wear something at least. Will you let me in and point the nearest inn?" He said. It seemed that the guards have heard such stories and let him in.

"You may enter Bruma!" The first proclaimed and pointed a building with medium size."That's the cheapest inn around, feel free to go in. Farewell." He said and Gordoth walked towards the building. A few men were walking around, nothing unnatural, he thought. He walked towards the inn and opened the door. He expected rude men to stare at him, but what he saw was quite interesting. A man with expensive clothing sat on a table and was eating something, while some other casual citizens were eating on theirs. Gordoth walked next to the rich looking man and pointed the chair in front of him.

"May I sit?" He asked politely. The man looked at him and smiled. He had long brown hair and a moustache. He looked no older than fifty years.

"Of course, sit. My name is Fregion, by the way. I work in the chapel, teach the young of the world. Would you like something to eat? I have plenty." He allowed Gordoth to sit and ordered a plate of soup.

"Thanks... My name is Gordoth, by the way." He thanked, happy about meeting such a nice man, who would allow him not only sit with, but allso give him food. He thought of something and smiled.

"Hey, uhm, Fregion, will you tell me about the Nords?" He asked, naming the teacher. He smiled and cleared his throat.

"Ehem. Ok, so, The Nords are the children of the sky, a race of tall and fair-haired humans from Skyrim who are known for their incredible resistance to cold and magical frost. They are enthusiastic warriors, and many become renowned soldiers and mercenaries all over Tamriel. Eager to augment their martial skills beyond the traditional methods of Skyrim, they excel in all manner of warfare, and are known as a militant people by their neighbors. Nords are also natural seamen, and have benefited from nautical trade since their first migrations from Atmora. They captain and crew many merchant fleets, and may be found all along the coasts of Tamriel. Although Nords intermingled with other races over the years, it is primarily to Atmora, the northernmost known place on Nirn, that they trace their lineage. Atmora is likely a human corruption of "Altmora", a name found in old Elvish records which means "Elder Wood". Legends say that Atmora was once very green and prosperous, until "the freezing" turned it into an inhospitable wasteland plagued by civil war, causing its people to migrate to Tamriel in waves throughout the Merethic and First eras. During this migration, the chieftain Ysgramor rallied people from all sides who desired to live in peace and set sail south, eventually arriving at Hsaarik Head, at the extreme northern tip of Skyrim's Broken Cape. They named the new land "Mereth" in tribute to the Aldmeri Elves who had already settled most of the continent. Contrary to many stories, which apparently credit Ysgramor with being the leader of the first group of human settlers, he and his colonists were the latest in a long line of emigrants from Atmora to Skyrim, and many had already migrated to other places around Tamriel. Do you like the soup?" He suddenly stoped. Gordoth noticed he had canceled the procces of eating the tasty soup and grinned.

"Yes, it's tasty. Please, go on." He answered, gulping some of the tasty food. Fregion smiled and continued.

"Elves and men lived in relative peace and prosperity for a great deal of time, but racial tensions grew along with the human population, and eventually violence erupted. It's unclear how it started, but the Elves razed the Nordic capital city of Saarthal, killing the defenders and everyone unable to flee, in a slaughter now known as the Night of Tears. According to legend, the only humans to survive were Ysgramor and his two sons, who fled back to Atmora, where they gathered the famous Five Hundred Companions and sailed back to expediently slaughter any Elves they came across, founding new cities as they went and clearing the way for new settlers. The Five Hundred's great achievements and acts of heroism cemented them and their leader Ysgramor as role models in Nordic culture. Their legacy is purportedly carried on by the Companions, a group of nonpartisan mercenaries based in the city of Whiterun who are renowned as impartial arbiters on matters on honor. Ysgramor's descendant King Harald, who is credited with first uniting the province under its customary borders in 1Era 113, drove the last of the Elves out of the province in 1E 143. Despite heavy resistance, Elves were also driven from Solstheim, a small island northeast of Skyrim, which would be predominantly inhabited by Nords for thousands of years to come. Dragons were revered as part of the Nordic religion. Dragon priests, on par with kings in terms of the power they wielded, acted as intermediaries between the people and the serpentine "god-kings", whose name could not even be uttered by the common folk. Temples were built to honor and appease the dragons, many of which survive today as ancient ruins haunted by draugr and undead dragon priests. The dragon priests in Tamriel became more tyrannical and the populace eventually rebelled some time in the Merethic Era, leading to the legendary Dragon War. Some dragons turned against their own kind and taught the Nords powerful magic that allowed them to turn the tide of the war in their favor. After a long and bloody campaign, the rule of the dragons was ended, and the remaining wyrms fled to remote areas. The Dragon Cult survived for a time, but was marginalized and eventually died out. Other traditional Nordic beliefs, known as the Old Ways, continued on, and remained prevalent amongst Nords even after the introduction of the Divines. In 1E 241, King Vrage the Gifted (Harald's son) began the aggressive expansion now known as the Skyrim Conquests, which would culminate in the First Empire of the Nords. Within a span of fifty years, the descendants of Ysgramor ruled all of northern Tamriel, including most of present-day High Rock and the whole of Morrowind. Some Nord leaders wanted to turn south to Cyrodiil, but the Jerall Mountains proved to be too big a barrier, and northern Cyrodiil too poor a the next few centuries, Skyrim expanded and contracted as battles were won and lost. The Conquests, and the Empire, came to an end in 1E 369 with the death of King Borgas, the last of the Ysgramor line, during the Wild Hunt. When the ruling council or Moot was unable to choose Jarl Hanse of Winterhold (considered the obvious choice by Imperial scholars), as the new High King, the ensuing civil war tore the Empire apart. The war concluded in 1E 420 with the Pact of Chieftains, but the Empire lost its holdings in High Rock and Morrowind, and Skyrim was divided into independent kingdoms. The Nords tried to reconquer Morrowind around 1E 700, but were rebuffed by united Chimer and Dwemer forces, and the Tribunal would protect Morrowind from invasion for thousands of years to come. The failure of the Nord Tongues in Morrowind prompted Jurgen Windcaller to begin a seven-year meditation to understand the failure, leading to the discovery of the Way of the Voice. Late in the First Era, an invasion from Akavir cut through Skyrim. Even though Nords don't "meet invasions with pitchers of mead", they were unable to stop the mighty Akaviri Dragonguard, and it took the united armies of Cyrodiil to stop their advance at the Battle of Pale Pass. The Nords were understandably impressed, and for the first time, the whole of Skyrim pledged allegiance to one man: Reman Cyrodiil, one of the first Dragonborn recorded in history and the founder of the Second Empire of Man. The Nords would generally support the Empire, even under the Potentates, for hundreds of years to come. The chaos of the Interregnum brought the Nords an opportunity for glorious battle against their neighbors. Together with the Bretons of High Rock, they once again looked south, to Cyrodiil, for room to expand. Despite some initial success, they did not count on Tiber Septim. Skyrim was absorbed comparatively peacefully into the empire of Tiber Septim, the Battle of Sancre Tor around 2E 852 and other clashes notwithstanding. Many Nords found employment in the Imperial Legion, as Talos generally nurtured relations with the north. In the centuries after the Empire's founding, Skyrim was drawn into several major conflicts. One of these was the War of the Red Diamond wherein Skyrim supported Queen Potema against the Empire. The civil war nearly tore the Empire apart and it would take seventeen long years before Potema was finally defeated and peace was restored. However, a strong underground movement called the Hörme, believing that Potema and her deposed son were the last of Tiber Septim's true blood, continued to work against Imperial interests in Skyrim. Close to the end of the Third Era, the kingdoms of Skyrim instigated several wars to expand their territory. The War of the Bend'r-Mahk during the Imperial Simulacrum increased Nordic holdings considerably, swallowing up many miles of territory traditionally belonging to eastern High Rock and Hammerfell, and they have their eyes on Morrowind, which is no longer protected by the Tribunal. The Fourth Era brought significant changes for Nords. Late in the Third Era and in the beginning years of the Fourth Era, Solstheim became overrun by Dunmer refugees from Morrowind, which had been devastated by natural disasters and then conquered by the Argonians of Black Marsh. The Nords of Solstheim wanted to win independence from the Empire, and planned to destroy Fort Frostmoth. Many Dunmer also fled west on the mainland, establishing a strong presence in cities in eastern Skyrim. Following the sacking of Nova Orsinium, many Orc refugees were escorted into Skyrim by the Imperial Legion. Many Orcs choose to segregate their society and live in Orc Strongholds scattered throughout the wilderness, but some others have, like the Dunmer, chosen to live in the "civilized" settlements of Skyrim. Despite some trepidation at these newcomers, the Nords remained relatively peaceful and prosperous, with some exceptions, in the tumultuous aftermath of the Oblivion Crisis. However, their peace would not last. Around 4E 200, a little over twenty years after the Great War ended, the High King of Skyrim was killed. A disagreement over whether his death was murder or the result of an honorable duel, combined with resentments created by the White-Gold Concordat which ended the Great War, launched Skyrim into the bloody Stormcloak Rebellion, named after the leader of the rebels, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. There are two things most Nords love: music and mead.[38] Most Nords wear animal skins or cotton clothing. They are generally tolerant of outsiders to Skyrim, though often do not make them feel welcome. In particular, Nords are still often quite prejudiced towards elves. The Reach, one of the nine Holds of Skyrim, has only a slight Nord majority, and cities in the east have become heavily influenced by the Dunmer. The northern and eastern holds - Winterhold, Eastmarch, The Rift, and the Pale - are known collectively as the Old Holds, where the influence of old Nordic traditions is still relatively strong and outsiders are rare. The young men there go out for weeks into the high peaks in the dead of winter, hunting the ice wraiths that give them claim to full status as citizens. The Reach and the Rift both have long histories of lawlessness, and are generally associated with criminal activity. Nords tend to be superstitious, and their folklore reflects this. Nordic names, often chosen based on omens, are given in a special ceremony when the child is young. Any unexplained misfortune is often blamed on the Falmer, or Snow Elves. The Falmer, long believed to be extinct thanks to the unmerciful Nordic invasion into their lands, were actually driven deep underground, where they became feral and purportedly seek to kill all those who dwell above them, so it's possible there's truth in some of these claims. Few, one of my longest lectures heh? Hahaha..." The scholar finished, laughing. Gordoth was already done with his soup and was listening really interested to Fregion.

"Fregion, can you tell me, do the Nords have a religion? I want to know almost all from it. Please." Gordoth asked, wanting to hear more. The teacher nodded.

"But I will have to drink something." He said and ordered some water. After drinking half of the cup, he cleared his throat and started.

"The nord's religion and beliefs. They are considered to be a devout people with grim religious beliefs. Among other things, they have long believed that Alduin, the World-Eater, would eventually return and bring about the end of the world. As dark as their belief systems are viewed to be, all Nordic traditions extend one bright, shining hope for Nords: Sovngarde, the Hall of Valor, where Nords who have proven their mettle in battle or died valiantly are welcome to experience euphoric bliss and camaraderie, free from time and boredom. Some stories claim the place was built by, and still inhabited by, the elusive Shor. It is little surprise that cowardice is the worst trait a Nord can exhibit, for "a Nord is judged not by the manner in which he lived, but the manner in which he died". Now, about the Old ways. Ysgramor and the Atmorans brought with them the worship of animal gods: the hawk, wolf, snake, moth, owl, whale, bear, fox, and most importantly the dragon. Over time, as Nord beliefs evolved, the traditional Nordic Pantheon of Divines emerged as personifications of natural forces and ideas. Many scholars believe that the Nordic Pantheon is the same as the orthodox pantheon, merely with different names (there are certainly many parallels), and many Nords who have adopted the Divines evidently have this understanding. The isolated Nordic tribe in Solstheim, the Skaal, carry on a tradition very similar to the old tradition of animal worship. The Skaal venerate all of nature, believing that certain parts of their environment, such as the winds, the trees and the sun, were given to them by the All-Maker, a benevolent, unknowable creator deity. Wolves and bears are especially sacred to the small tribe. All aspects of nature must constantly be in harmony, for this is what gives the Skaal their shamanic powers. The Skaal also tell tales of the Adversary, the enemy of mankind, and his lieutenant, the Greedy Man. Tales suggest that the Greedy Man is another incarnation of Lorkhan, this time cast as a demon, and the Adversary is likely the Padomay or Sithis of the north, which gives birth to Lorkhan in elven tales. In this regard, the faith of the Skaal is nearly the opposite of the pantheon of their kin in Skyrim. Although not worshipping them, the Skaal also acknowledge the existence of the Daedric Princes. Did you know the nords have their own Pantheon? Like all modern Tamrielic races (Dunmer excluded), Nordic religion is focused on the Aedra and their old ally, Lorkhan. However, the Nord's Sky Goddess Kyne is notably more assertive and warlike than the nature-loving Kynareth. Although Mara is present in her role as a mother goddess, she is thought of as a mere handmaiden to Kyne, the actual mother of the Nords and the widow to Shor. She is also credited with sending her son Morihaus (and perhaps Pelinal) to the aid of the Cyro-Nordic slaves in their uprising against the Ayleids around 1E 242. Shortly after, the Nordic pantheon of gods would be fused with the Aldmeri pantheon by Alessia into the Eight Divines (although this new belief system would be bucked occasionally). Interestingly, certain Daedra, notably Hermaeus Mora, are found in the Nordic pantheon. About Alduin now. The chief of the Nordic Pantheon of Skyrim is Shor. The Nords know Shor as the king of the gods, a champion of men in their struggles against the Elves. They believe he was treacherously slain by elven devils, yet continues to bestow favor on his people by aiding them with immortal champions, sometimes called Shezarrines, including Ysmir, another member of the Nordic pantheon. The "watered down" Shezarr of the Eight Divines was considered acceptable to some Nords as "the spirit behind all human undertaking". Shor, and Shezarr, are suspected to be the same entity as traditional Nordic Pantheon has had a very muddled history with Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time, and misconceptions abound. The totem animals of the Old Ways included the dragon, whom scholars correlate with the worship of Akatosh, but the veneration of dragons understandably dwindled amongst Nords after the Dragon War. The Nords of the First Era thus only came to know Akatosh as Auri-El, the Elven deity, whom they demonized. Nevertheless, Akatosh was reintroduced in Alessia's compromised pantheon. Many scholars over the years, most of whom were foreigners unfamiliar with the nuances of Nordic history, have mistakenly assumed that Alduin was merely the Nordic name for Akatos. Due to mistrust of Nordic education and the integrity of their oral traditions, even well-informed scholars dismissed the dichotomy despite the fact that Akatosh's benevolent nature bore no resemblance to Alduin and that Nords who accepted Akatosh as a deity maintained that he was distinct from Alduin. And, at the end at last, the thu'um of the Dragonborn. The spiritual relationship between the Nords and breath is crucial to understanding Nordic beliefs and motivations. They believe Kyne breathed life into them at the Throat of the World, the highest mountain in Skyrim. Another creation myth involves the Ehlnofey, wandering progenitors of the Mythic Era, some of whom journeyed to Atmora and became the Nords. The two stories are not necessarily in conflict, as they both seem to suggest that Nordic ancestors emerged in Skyrim, settled in Atmora, then returned. Regardless, the Nords believe that their breath and voice are their vital essence, and that by uttering shouts in the tongue of the dragons, they can channel their essence to perform incredible have been able to use the thu'um, a magical shout capable of extraordinary power, as a nearly unstoppable weapon against their adversaries as far back as the late Mythic Era. They view it as a gift from Kyne, and those with the talent to wield it are called "Tongues". The ancient Greybeards, masters of the thu'um, still sit atop the 7000 steps leading to the settlement of High Hrothgar, near the summit of the Throat of the World, where they practice the Way of the Voice. Their leader, Jurgen Windcaller, brought about a ban on the use of the thu'um outside of times of "True Need". Tiber Septim established the Imperial College of the Voice in Markarth in an attempt to turn the Way of the Voice to warfare. While some Tongues like Ulfric Stormcloak have proved willing to use the thu'um for violence, the use of the thu'um in warfare has remained extremely rare amongst Nords. It is false to assume, however, that the Way of the Voice demands pacifism: while the Greybeards don't take up arms directly, they occasionally speak, and thereby set titanic events in motion. They have spoken together on only two known occasions: to announce the destiny of Tiber Septim and, later, to do the same for the Last Dragonborn. Today, Ysmir is the name by which Nords recognize the divinity of Talos, and may be used more generally to refer to any Shezarrine. However, there are many competing theories on who or what Ysmir really is. The title seemed to have originated with Ysmir Wulfharth, the Atmoran-born ruler of ancient Skyrim whose thu'um was so powerful that he could not speak without causing destruction. This is actually rather typical of the greatest masters (powerful Tongues are often gagged for safety).In Nordic society, the Dragonborn is an archetype for what a Nord should be, and any Dragonborn is treated with a deep respect. A Dragonborn can not only wield the power of the thu'um like other Tongues, but can also absorb the souls of dragons, as well as knowledge of the thu'um, thereby achieving in a short time what it takes others a lifetime to learn. The "Dragonborn Emperors" were able to rely on this cultural influence to cement the fealty of the Nords, while the Emperors of the Fourth Era were not. It is likely because of this that so many Nords are unwilling to give up the worship of Talos, even in the face of a ban by the Empire. That's all! Phew." He finished, sihting at the end happily. Gordoth realized that his mouth was open. He hurried closing it.

"Thank you a lot! I really needed this!" Gordoth told Fregoin and stood up, preparing to go, but was stopped by the scholar's hand.

"You can't go wherever you are going with this clothing! Look at you! Why don't you come with me, I will give you a set of leather armor and you are free to go. How does it sound?" He offered. Gordoth smiled and followed the teacher who walked out of the inn and into a small tone house that was his home. Upon entering, Gordoth inspected the whole place. Pretty carpet, closets,table,seats... And stairs up, also stairs down. Fregion opened the doors of a closet and took a chest, wich probably contained the armor. He placed it on the table.

"Come to take your clothing." He said and Gordoth walked next to Fregion as the teacher opened the chest. It did contain a leather set of armor, excluding helm, but it was enough.

"Take it and get it on. It's for you, since I have a pair." The scholar exclaimed and Gordoth walked upstairs to get it on. He didn't wait and in front of the door he removed his clothing and got the leather one on as fast as he could. it was a little small, but not too much to be discomfortable. The nord climbed down the staircase and saw Fregion handing him a sword.

"Take this. No nord takes another nord seriously if he doesn't have a weapon." He said. Gordoth took the steel sword and stocked it in the belt. Fregion offered his hand. This time, Gordoth took it. His friend shook it and let go.

"You can now go to Skyrim, The land of the nords. Farewell, my friend." Fregion said and Gordoth waived for bye bye. On the way to Skyrim, Gordoth was armed and ready, to meet his homeland.


	2. Chapter 2: Executions

**That one is shorter, sorry. But I am writing a lot, about ten stories at a time and don't have time with school and my piano lessons also swimming and football. Don't hate me for making it shorter, enjoy it! Also PLEASE review! It makes my day ;D**

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_Gordoth opened his eyes... Only to close them. He then decided to force himself to look. He revealed his orbs and saw three men talking about something, maybe even stood into a city, wich was under siege. Fire ate the houses, building were torn apart. The skies were red, with orange veins running over them. Gordoth turned his attention back to the group of men. The first one had a dark purple robe, long and expensive. His hair long and black, his eyes old, but his body merely thirty years old. Around his neck was wrapped a golden amulet with a big ruby in the middle. He had a sword resting on his belt and a confident look on his face. He looked like a king, compared to the others. The second looked like a general or a noble compared to the first. His steel armor was scribed with gold writings wich illuminated with dull light, a few medals rested on top of his chest. He had a giant war hammer on his back, wich was also steel and scribed with golden runes wich probably powered it. He had short white hair in a monk fashion, his whole body old but still strong. The third... Was a tall warrior. His armor was golden, a little rusty but golden. The noble metal was scribed with hundreds of dark runes wich illuminated in a purple light and burned it cold fire. The shoulder pads as the legs of the man were covered by animal fur, wich looked like a cape for the shoulders and back, while the one around the legs looked like a robe. It was only for decoration, not making and movement harder. His head was hooded, but by a hood that would reveal the face. But it was hidden. Hidden by a red mask, rusty too, but burning with magical energy and dark lines passing through it. His sword was stabbed in the ground and his hands rested around the handle. It was a mighty weapon, dual wielded. Fine metal covered by runes to empower it, those scribes burned in a blue fire, while their color was yellow. The sword had a strange mark on the handle, but it didn't matter to Gordoth. Compared to the others, this one looked like a god._

_"Martin, we can't risk! It's too dangerous! The daedra are too powerful!" The general said, talking to the king. The man shook his head, sighing. _

_"We must go, Jaufree. I must light the Dragon fires, While my friend has to protect me. Those are our destinies. I must go, or we are doomed." Martin exclaimed. The masked one nodded. It was sure he had a great deal of trust and loyalty in Martin. Just as two old friends. Jaufree sighed on his turn._

_"We can't afford it! If you die, there will be no heir! No emperor. All the scum of Cyrodiil will come here, asking for the crown so they rule! What will happen? There must be another way!" Jaufree asked? He was surely concerned about the king, who wasn't a king, but an emperor. Gordoth knew that the old man was right, yet Martin only shook his head._

_"There is no other way, my friend. I must light the Dragon fires personally, because only I can control the amulet. If I die, you will choose the next ruler. This is my destiny, and i can't escape it!" He demanded. Jaufree trembled under the shout. _

_"Come. We must save Tamriel." Said Martin and led his friend towards the temple of the divine, Gordoth somehow knew the name of the building they walked towards. He followed, pulled by force he couldn't know or recognize. They both had their weapons drawn, but the one who would use his was the god - like one. _

_"My friend, hold of the Daedra until I complete the ritual, then run out of the city, because I don't know what will happen after." The other nodded. Doesn't like to talk or mute? Never the less, he was loyal. He stood in front of the gate of the temple, sword drawn and other hand burning with fire. He was a spell sword, using two handed weapons to fight with as one handed. He awaited. Waited for those 'Daedra' and just looked forth. Then, shadows emerged from the burning houses along with flying creatures from all over the sky. The masked waited until they closed in, so he could kill many only with one blow. Just before they attacked, he immolated the front lines and charged, cleaving through flesh and bone, muscles and shells. He was a monster on the battle field. All daedra who tried to kill him fell under his perfect blows and swings. But they were too many, also they were demonic beings from other worlds. A few climbed on top of him, started to ravage the fur and armor, but their hands started burning when they touched the metal. They didn't seem to care. A few humanoid creatures charged at him, their weapons ready and hands forward shooting lighting bolts. Gordoth felt sorry for the warrior, he was so strong. But then, the masked man stood up, with four demons on his back and steady started moving his hands into symbols, his sword was stabbed in the ground. When those who were running towards him hit, he slammed the ground with his fists and all of it erupted in fires. Inferno on earth. All the daedra died in screams of agony. Then, the masked man stood up and clutched his hands around the handle of the sword, wich was covered in blood. He removed it from the ground and walked in the temple. Upon entering the building the masked man was greeted by Martin who was sweating._

_"Why did you come? I told you that I don't know what might happen!" He started, but his friend just placed his hand on Martin's shoulder. This warmed the emperor. His back strengthened and he looked more heroic than before. _

_"You are right. Now, let me do what I must! I will li -" He was interrupted by the sieling of the temple falling, revealing a behemoth with red skin and four hands. _

_"Meherunes..." Whispered the leader. He stood up and dashed to the center of the temple, then lifted his amulet._

_"By the power of the nine divines, I Martin Septim, emperor of the Empire, Light the Dragon Fires and banish you from Tamriel!" Shouted martin. Then, he was surrounded by fire, no immolated by it and fully hidden. The fire viel grew in size, just as tall as the behemoth and took the shape of a dragon, wich struck it's enemy fiercely. The masked man only watched. Then, upon realizing he shouted:_

_"MARTIIIIIIN!"_

Gordoth opened his eyes, sweating, hearing horses and voice was so familiar. He looked around. His hands were bound, his legs free. He was in a carriage with three more men. The same blonde man from before, the other one, who's mouth was also covered, and a nord with brown hair. The blonde one smiled.

"Ah, your finally awake." He said, smiling.

"What happened?" Gordoth asked. "Why am I here?"

"It was that imperial ambush. Same as us, and that thief over there." He answered. The other man, without the bound mouth looked at them.

"Damn you stormcloaks. The empire was nice and lazy until you came along. I would have stolen that horse and would've been half way to Hammerfell, if you weren't here." He said. His voice was frightened. His face also showed it. They were prisoners. And were led somewhere by someone.

"We are all brothers and sisters in binds now, horse thief. My name is Ralof. What is yours, sleepy head?" The blonde man introduced himself and asked for a name. Gordoth smiled.

"My name is Gordoth. But, can you tell me, Ralof, where is my equipment? I was coming back home when I saw you and then that guy..." Gordoth started but someone sighted.

"Shut up back there!" It was the man driving the carriage. Forty or thirty five years old, with brown armor that was similar to his, but without the helm. It was ugly and hardly provided any protection.

"Pff. Not worth it." Answered Ralof. He laughed when the driver turned and tried to spit on him, but instead spat on his own shoulder.

"What's wrong with him?" Asked the horse thief. He didn't introduce himself so Gordoth decided to call him 'thief'. Thief nodded towards the man with the bound mouth. Ralof acted sharply.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Jarl Ulfric, the true high king!" The thief's eyes widened to the name.

"You're the leader of the rebellion! B-but if they captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?" He mumbled and started praying to the gods.

"I don't know, but Savongarde awaits." Answered Ralof. He looked up to the skies and smiled. Gordoth tried to start a conversation.

"Hey, what is that rebellion the thief is speaking of? And what is that gate?" Gordoth nodded at a gate about a hundred feet from them. It was stone, massive and big. Two guards stayed on top of it and looked at the closing carriages.

"Helgen." Ralof simply answered. He then looked at the thief. "What village are you from, horse thief?" The thief looked surprised.

"Rorickstead. I'm from Rorickstead. But why did you ask?" He answered. Ralof smiled.

"A nord's last thoughts should be from home." Upon reaching the gate, someone shouted:

"General Tulius sir, the headsman is waiting." Gordoth turned to see that general and what he saw was strange. A man riding a horse, with a short sword on his belt and an armor, that hardly provided any protection. The hands were exposed, allowing an axe user to simply decapitate the man. Gordoth winced. How did he know all this? He ignored the strange event and continued to observe the man. His head was almost bald, with an exeption of a few strands of hair. He turned and walked towards an elf woman, who was also riding a horse. She was blonde, her face not beautiful nor ugly. She had black robes, fit for a mage.

"General Tulius, the military governor. And the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this." Ralof groaned. He was acting quite racist, Gordoth noticed. "Ah, Helgen. I used to be sweat on a girl from here. I wonder if he still makes his Juneberry mead." Ralof started thinking on voice. They left him, he was probably remembering things. "Strange, when I was young, Imperial walls and towers made me feel so safe." He whispered. Gordoth noticed a little boy looking at him from the front of it's house. It talked about something with it's dad. But Gordoth ignored them, for he felt the carriage stopping.

"Why are we stopping?" Asked the thief. He was afraid.

"Why do you think? End of the line..." Rolaf answered. He then looked at Gordoth and winced. "What's wrong with your eyes? Never mind, let's go. Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us." He said and stood up, accompanied by everyone. They slowly left the carriage and stood in front of a man, who had the same uniform but no helm, wich exposed his brown hair and eyes."The empire loves their damn lists." Rolaf said. The other man coughed and started.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The man with tied mouth walked forth.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric." Rolaf whispered. The other one continued.

"Rolaf of Riverwood." Rolaf walked forth and turned to go towards the block, all prisoners stood in a line. "Lokir of Rorickstead." The thief walked forth.

"You're not gonna kill me!" He shouted, more like screamed and ran out. The women next to the man who was saying names turned.

"Archers!" She yelled and the archers prepared their arrows and fired, killing Lokir. Only Gordoth was left. He winced. The man with the list looked at him.

"You. Yes you." Gordoth walked forward. "Who... Are you?" The man asked. He looked into Gordoth's eyes and almost immediately removed his gaze. "And what's wrong with your eyes?" Gordoth sighed. He felt his eyes the same as he felt them before he came here. What could've happened?

"I am Gordoth." He simply answered. The one with the list looked at the paper.

"Captain, what do we do now? He's not on the list!" He said. The woman next to him sighted.

"Forget the list! He goes to the block!" She roared and walked towards the line. The man with the list sighed.

"Follow the captain, prisoner." He said and pointed the woman. Gordoth obeyed and followed the pesky woman. She was shorter than him, yet talked to them in that way... What were those nords? Upon reaching the line of captives, he looked at general Tulius talking to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloack.

"...Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use the power ov the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne. You started this war, plunged Skyrim into Chaos, now we are going to cut you down! Give then their last rights." Tulius finished, the last sentence shot towards a woman in a priest's robe. She was probably a priest. She lifted her hands and started.

"As we commend your souls to Etherius, blessings of the eight -" She was interrupted by a redhead who violently walked towards the block.

"Let's get this over with!" He said and kneeled in front of the captain. She violently kicked his back towards the wooden block.

"My ancestors are smiling to me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" He asked, while the executor lifted his axe. Ralof sighed.

"As brave he was in life, he is in death..." He whispered. Then, some strange sound was heard. A roar. But from far away. Everyone went alert. The man who asked Gordoth about his identity looked up.

"What was that?" He wondered. Tulius spat on the ground.

"It's nothing continue." The general said. The executor swung and beheaded the stormcloack. Someone yelled at the Imperials. Others shouted against the stormcloacks. Gordoth didn't take foot in any of it. His head was dizzy, his eyes were twitching and his whole body sweating.

"Next prisoner. You, the nord in the rags!" The captain shouted. The roar was heard again, closer.

"There it is again. What is it?" Asked the same man who asked before.

"I said, next prisoner!" The captain repeated. Gordoth sighed and walked towards the bloodied wood, sure that his fate was sealed. He kneeled, the woman pushed him to lay his neck on the block, while gordoth turned to look at the executor. He lifted his axe... And a dragon appeared!


	3. Chapter 3: Stone or Gem

**Hey! How are you doing? Please review, it does my day. After the chapter some crossovering might be done (surely) so be ready. If you want, suggest some medieval game and I will choose some. But please review, it makes my day!**

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_"What is it, Shor?" Kynareth looked at the sick god, who lay in the bed of her heavenly temple. The temple was in fact in heaven, but not a heaven you would imagine. A heaven that was underwater. None knew that the gods resided under the great oceans, none knew they were there, also none thought they would be there. It was simple, but also complex. Her temple was giant, hundreds of Gildergreens and a lot of Eldergreens covered the structures, their leaves hiding the residents of the temple. Everyone would ask themselves, who lived with the gods? Simple as this, the gods or the Aedra, as they are in fact called, lived with the perfect elves and immortal humans. Strange names, but wouldn't anyone think of an elf perfect if he saw one of the perfect elves? Their skin was always gentle, they illuminated a dim glow, really fascinating eyes as they had the same color of the rising sun. Their hair was always long and covered with leaves, they also had the ability of changing their appearance. If they felt drawn towards a type of a creature, they could gain some basic looks of it. Like changing their skin, their hair, their weight. For example, the elf female that was standing next to the goddess of life had grey fur and long jaw, wich symbolized the wolf. The girl worked in the ways of healing and as an always healing god, Kynareth was teaching her along with a few more to the ways of harmony and peace with nature. While the perfect elves were... Well, perfect, the immortal humans were much, much different. They were at least 6 to 7 feet tall, had long beards also long hair. They were more barbaric, as the elves talked about ordinary humans, but they would never talk about the immortal ones. There was real peace in Heaven. Also a big difference made the fact that the elves were aiming for the peaceful actions, such as following Kynareth's ways. While the humans prefered the teaching of Talos, The god of war or Zenithar, the god of smithy and craftsmanship. But they didn't use their differences against each other, as the peace was always there. But now, that peace was troubled. The drums of war were dangerously close to beating, as the Daedric lords were preparing for an invasion against mankind and then maybe against the Aedra. This was madness, of course, but it was possible. Right now, both Talos and Shor lay sick on the beds in Kynareth's temple, ill by some disease than the goddess couldn't heal. And in this moment, she was sitting next to Shor and was trying to help him. He was mumbling something about 'dovahkiin' and some prophecy, also about dark gods and at last, but not least, some strange word. 'Boaedra'. Kynareth didn't know what to do as she was the goddess of healing and it was expected from her to help them, but now some sort of evil was happening with all the Aedra. A twisted sound was filling the roads of Heaven and it led to bad things. Kynareth sighed as she didn't know what to do. But she knew someone who could help them all. _

_"Dovahkiin, please, lend us your light..." She whispered. The Dragonborn have done thing even the gods couldn't or wouldn't like to do. First of all, he was Dragonborn. Only Talos shared that power of his. Second, he have slain the worm, The world eater Alduin, whom a few gods feared. He stood openly against the Empire, by killing general Tulius and assisting Ulfric Stormcloack in a lot of ways, by retrieving the legendary jagged crown for him. The nord, Stormcloack was now high king of Skyrim, but openly thanked to the Dragonborn. But, Kynareth knew, the hero had his sinister side. He was far stronger than he would ever belive, far more ancient than he would ever suspect and at last, far more alien to Tamriel than he would like to think. Kynareth was pulled out of her thoughts when someone pulled her arm. It was Zenithar. His face, covered by the ashes of the forges down there was worried. _

_"We are under siege, Kynareth. The daedra led something we have never seen." He said and walked out of the temple, Kynareth knew that she had to follow and so did she. The god of craftmanship led her to the walls, where stood all remaining five. Arkay was the first to speak._

_"We are under attack. But the one leading the charge is not a daedra." He said. His voice was echoing deep from under his hood. All six others sighed, they knew Arkay could be joking even in that moment. _

_"Who is it then?" Asked Meridia. She was in a golden armor wich perfectly fits her. _

_"Look at him." Echoed the voice of Arkay. Him being the god of death made him the scariest one and the strongest after Talos. His hand slowly moved up and pointed at a figure that stood on the cliff in front of them. He had Dwarven armor, and a long dual handed sword. Nothing to worry about. But then Kynareth witnessed his mask. It was red, power crawling upwards to the forehead of the mask. It was scribed and none knew how someone could see through it. _

_"V-V-Volsung..." Mara whispered. Her voice was weak and scared. Everyone felt like, that except Arkay. _

_"Yes, brothers and sisters. Volsung. But it is not the same we remember, from when the daedra marched against Cyrodiil. It is not him. A replacement, a copy. A thief. But he possessed the mask. And leads a whole legion of daedra. We must fight." He said and lifted his hands, summoning his armies. The thousands of undead rose underneath the feet of the daedra,starting to fight immediately. The other gods also summoned their armies. Zenithar looked at Kynareth and grinned._

_"Kynareth, go for Talos and Shor. You must protect them at all costs. They are the only hope if we fail." The god of craftmanship said. The goddess nodded and rushed to her temple. She kneeled next to the beds and started scribing runes that would hide the gods from existence. Upon finishing she looked at her brothers and sighed. _

_"Dovahkiin...Volsung..." Shor mumbled in his sleep and Kynareth understanded. It was like a flash of light. The Dragonborn had to defeat Volsung, or otherwise the world was dead. _

_"Dovahkiin... Help us..." She whispered and pulled the ill gods towards the underbelly of Heaven._

"There it is again. Can't you hear it?" Gordoth was staring at the high king who seemed worried.

"We can't hear anything Dovahkiin." Ulfric said. The Dragonborn sighed.

"Maybe I miss the thrill of battle. Maybe... I will leave you now." Gordoth answered, bowed and walked slowly out of the doors of the blue palace. Upon witnessing him, the children who were playing on the streets started whispering something.

"_That's him. Look at his armor, even daddy doesn't have such a beautiful suit._" One of them said. Gordoth smiled. With his magic he could hear almost everything, smell almost everything, see almost everything. Gordoth knew that his armor was quite amazing in a lot of ways. It was golden, a little rusty, but still shone. It was also covered with bear fur, the shoulders only at fell into a cape, also from the belt to the ground more bear fur flung. It was tremendous, yet not his own design. It was the masked warrior's, the one he was seeing in his nightmares for more than twenty days. But after understanding who Martin Septim was, he was able to get rid of the dream. But the figure remained in his head. The noble master of arms and magic, who took head on a few hundred daedra still remained in his mind. Gordoth himself fought a lot of daedra, but they were not such an easy pray for him. Well, ten were nothing, but upon getting more it became pretty ugly. In front of him appeared Lydia, his personal housecarl. She was in an armor made entirely from dragon bones. What was left from the encounters with dragons was used for good, Gordoth said. His armor was a strong one, made from Dragon bones, ebony and a gold layer on top. It was strong and imbued with different spells to protect it's master. Lydia moved a knot of her brown hair from her face, smiling.

"What took you so long?" She asked, her light voice touching his years. He didn't have any feelings to her, except being a great friend to the woman. He answered her with a smile of his own.

"Probably... Nothing. What did you do while I was in the palace? Visited the college?" He asked. She smiled.

"No. I visited the shrines of the gods to pray to Zenithar. As you know, I am becoming better and better with the mace." She answered. That was possible so Gordoth agreed.

"Ok, let's go then. We must go and find that last ornament for the crown in the thief's guild, you know?" He told her and walked towards the stables. She nodded and followed. The stables weren't something MIGHTY, but were good. The animals were fed, rested and that was all wich mattered. Gordoth walked next to his horse, a black steed. Shadowmere. He mounted the animal and waited for Lydia to mount her horse, an albino animal, really strange but she said she liked it and Gordoth didn't have any problem. He rode forth, his housecarl following right after the him. They were on the search for unusual gems, wich were a part of the crown of Bazeriath. And Gordoth, as the leader of the thief's guild in Skyrim was willing to search for it. And he has already acquired 23 pieces, only one left. He also had the whole crown, only the gems were needed. They have searched almost all of Skyrim, a few places were left. And the Dragonborn was planning to explore them and get a hold of the stone of Bazeriath, the last one. They rode, four to three hours. It was almost midnight when they arrived at the destination, a place that was probably sealed from the outside world and isolated itself. A cave was the entrance, they dismounted and walked in, both ready for a battle. About two hours of venturing inside the dark domain passed, nothing attacked them, nothing stopped them. No traps, no dangers, only a casual cave. Gordoth sighed. He didn't think they would find the gem in here, but he was rather interested in revealing the purpose that cave was empty. He walked more, not feeling exhaustion as he has spend more than two years traveling around Skyrim, helping those who needed help, killing evil thing, learning shouts and words. Also a lot of history. He passed around a corner and found himself in a huge forested cave, with a little pond in the middle. He walked next to the pond to find a chest. Opening it revealed a note and a satchel. Gordoth opened the satchel and shouted in happiness. The gems was there. He have found the last piece of the puzzle. The Dragonborn also decided to read the note, interested.

' Master, this stone might help you. I think that the darkness that started consuming me after you gave me the wretched thing and is going to take over me. The daedra are forcing me to summon the Boaedra so they could lead the battle with heaven. Never the less, it is powerfull. Really makes me feel good. But I remember the promise I made. When you come and defeat me, I will give it back to you. Never more, I won't forget. '

What a strange note, Gordoth thought. He smiled, thinking that he finally completed his quest of finding all of the stones of Bazeriath. The nord took the gem... And the satchel fell on the ground, with no one to lift it except Lydia.


	4. Chapter 4: Sanctuary

**Right now it is so hard to concentrate. But, here it is, the fourth chapter. Diablo crossover. Hope you enjoy, Please review!**

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Blood. Screams. Pain. Suffering.

All those feeling echoed through Gordoth's mind while he fell, his soul and body torn from his world, the Dragonborn being taken far, far from what he knew, as he fell deeper in the Void. His head was going to blow, paining even more. Then, he felt cold air and himself burning. Gordoth tried to open his eyes, but couldn't succeed. They were molting, along with his skin and his hair was burning. He was able to hear roars and tremendous explosions, but couldn't see them. He heard screaming men. Detonating dynamites. Rocks shattering into rocks. Fire. And then he crashed. His shout, more like a scream Echoed through the area. He drifted off to the darkness.

He opened his eyes and screamed. Gordoth saw snow. Snow and something moving through it. He felt his own presence, his living body. He was alright, only burned, but the dragonborn would survive, he knew it. Gordoth decided to check what was moving towards him. He lifted his head, slowly and witnessed a giant monstrosity. It was grotesque, ugly, horrid, six legged being with two limbs that would be arms, it's whole skin red and the are under it's chin covered with blood. It had metal claws on it's 'hands' and was walking towards Gordoth at a steady pace. He smelled burned flesh, probably his. The being lifted it's limb... And was shot by something, an arrow or a bolt and turned at the direction where the shot came from. Gordoth used the moment to stand up, but fell to all fours. His legs were too weak to hold him. He lifted his torso, his body holding only on his knees. Gordoth was able to recognize a woman shooting at the beast along with a man who carried a giant shield in his left hand. The monster was surely going to beat them, as the shield - man was injured already. The Dragonborn winced at the pain but stood up and his legs trembled every second he was holding on them. His hands were covered in yellow light adorned with dark lines, wich started showering his body, recovering him. The woman saw him because she started moving towards him slowly, still shooting at the monster. She had two crossbows in her hands and was shooting swiftly with them, her hair was long and black, getting just right to her shoulders. He felt that his body was able to stand without falling and stopped casting the superior healing spell. He summoned his sword, the two handed sword he also tried to copy from the masked warrior. He then ran towards the monster, understanding that the shield - man was now laying on the ground, while the beast was moving towards the archer. She stood cool, shooting at the demonic being. Just before it struck down the woman Gordoth was able to block the attack with his weapon, but the strike was vicious, making him fall to his knee. The monster raised it's hands and swung with such strength that if Dovahkiin stayed for a second more he would die. But the Dragonborn tackled next to the fallen soldier who was panting heavily. _Still alive eh? _Thought Gordoth and stood up, raising his sword in the direction of the demon. It was staring at him, some portions of the fur on his armor still burning. His sword was surrounded by the same light, with dark lines running through it and the Dragonborn charged. He knew, he would have to surprise the monster. He collected his power and shouted.

"_**YOOL TOOR SHUUL!**_" Fire shot from his mouth, bathing the creature, burning it's skin. That was his moment, as the Dragonborn impaled the daemon with his sword and raised it up, decapitating the beast. The lifeless body of the monster fell in the snow, Gordoth saw the woman running towards him. He winced and gave up to the darkness again.

"...An angel like you, Tyrael? I don't think he is immortal but... He survived." A feminine voice sounded.  
"No, he is no angel, I would've remembered him. He is not truly from that world. Not an angel, nor demon, no nephalem, but not human too. I think he has something to do with that gate you told me of, that you couldn't open." A male voice.  
"I think he is a hero! He saved us from the demon. Why do we have to talk like that about him?" A third voice sounded, again male. Gordoth winced, attracting all of the attention. The black haired woman looked at him with an emotionless look, not that he expected any emotion. The first man was with golden armor and a sword illuminating in a blue light. He had a darker skin color, wich didn't matter to Dovahkiin. The third man was also laying on a bed, but was ten times better than him. The same huge shield lays next to the bed, marked the fact that was the other warrior. They all looked at him with asking faces.

"Greetings, you are in Bastion's Keep now, last stand against the evil of Hell. I am Tyrael, once an archangel of justice, now just a mortal. This is Shaliina, Demon Hunter and hero for humanity. And this is Kaleck, a Templar. We would like to know of your name." The man with dark skin tone said. His voice was deep and calm. They all looked at him, they didn't trust him of course. How could they, he wasn't one of them.

"I don't think he would be able to understand us if he is from another world!" The man, the Templar said. He had short brown hair, the same color as Lydia's. Lydia. What happened with Lydia? He thought a little, then decided. Gordoth stood up, smiled and offered a hand to Tyrael.

"Nice to meet you. I am Dovahkiin, or Dragonborn. Otherwise my name is Gordoth." He answered. The woman continued looking at him, without saying a word. Gordoth noticed he wasn't carrying his armor, only the jumpsuit under it. He ignored it, as the man shook his hand.

"Do you know why are you here, how did you come? Also, how could you survive such a fall?" The Templar asked. Gordoth shook his head.

"I... Don't know. I remember falling through a Void, filled with pain, screams and suffering. Then m body immolated and I fell in the snow. Then you found me and you know the story." The dragonborn answered. The woman kept staring at him, clearly thinking what to say.

"Hm...Anything before that?" Tyrael asked. He was more worried than before.

"Well, my life on Tamriel. As well as the stone of Bazzeriath that... The stone!" He shouted. Remembering the whole purpose of his presence here was uneasy for him, because he marched all over Skyrim to find those stones. And now, the last transported him here.

"Dragonborn? What does that mean?" The woman suddenly asked. Her voice was calm. As she didn't care that her life was at danger before just... Just some time. But Gordoth was amazed by the fact they didn't know about the thu'um, the dragonborn.

"I am Dovahkiin. It is in my blood, I kill dragons, absorb their souls and become stronger. " He answered her ridiculous question. She nodded.

"And you can breathe fire thanks to that, also shout words that help you hold it." She finished. He nodded, lightly.

"Not only this. I can do much more. I am also the archmage of the college in Winterhold. And the leader of the thief's guild in Riften. Also patron of the Dark Brotherhood. Thane of all nine holds. With other words, a hero." He added. The woman, Shaliina, looked at him surprised. "Now, will you tell me where my armor is? I would like to help you as I can." He asked. Tyrael pointed a chest.

"That armor sure is heavy." Said Kaleck. Gordoth just took the pieces and put them on his body in the order they had to. The armor was almost as Tyrael's, but looked much more magnificent.

"Ok, all ready. Will you explain me what your situation is?" He asked. Shaliina stood up from her chair and walked out of the room, making a sign that required him to follow. Gordoth simply followed.

"The situation is simple." She said. "I go and kill everything in my way, until I reach Azmodan, the Lord Of Sin and kill him. Then we celebrate." She didn't sound disappointed. But, to do all allone and the others just sit here... It didn't seem fair. But then he remembered his travels. Alone, saving the world. They weren't really different. "One thing. I saw you fight. And I would need a new follower, someone to help me. Will you accompany me? So we can slay the demons that threaten the world?" Her voice was calm. As before, as now and probably it would be in the future. He nodded.

"I will help you. After all, I don't have where to go. So, where do we go?" He asked. She walked into a circle that was scribed with runes, a dim blue glow ran through them. Then, in a second, he felt something in his stomach, a knot, then Gordoth found himself in an area that he wouldn't ever imagine. Shaliina had her crossbows ready, prepared for battle. She was looking at him, waiting for something.

"What are you waiting for?" He asked as his sword appeared on his back. She nodded and started running through the dark road. The place they were in looked like an island, seas of lava around it. It was really hot, but Shaliina didn't seem to feel the temperature. She was just running towards a decent deeper into the island. She sighed.

"That's it. The place where I kill Azmodan and everything is over." Shaliina was about to walk down but Gordoth grabbed her hand.

"Wait. Will you just tell me something about this world? About those angels? About those Lords of Hell?" He asked her. She sighed again.

"Look what, I don't think that you should know much, but I will tell you this: We are in Sanctuary, the angels are the good side of the world, the Lords of Hell are the commanders of demons and are the bad side of the world. As simple as this. Nothing more. Now, I am thrusty for vengeance, so you can't slow me down anymore. I will kill Azmodan and then we can talk. All right?" She said. Shaliina was speaking at a fast rate, she really wanted that lord of Hell. Gordoth nodded and followed the Demon Hunter in the hole. They found themselves in front a hulking monster, with four legs. It's appearance was grotesque. It laughed.

"The soulstone will be mine and I will become the prime evil after I kill you!" It said and walked towards them. Shaliina immediately opened fire, shooting at incredible speed. Gordoth simply charged at the demon, dodging it's swinging maw and stabbed the giant belly. The monster didn't make any sign it felt the hit and threw a fireball at the Dragonborn. He warded, using a weak ward so it wouldn't take a lot of his magickal energy but the strike was so strong it required the strongest ward Gordoth could put up. The demon stomped, throwing the Dovahkiin back, but couldn't harm the warior. Another fireball followed, but Gordoth dodged it and dived for another hit on the demon. It was able to block the hit with the sword, but Gordoth expected it and shocked the Demon by throwing an ice spear into it's belly. This acted quite good, impaling the torso of the monster. "You will be consumed by Hell itself!" The lord of Hell shouted. The Dragonborn leapt backwards upon witnessing a horrid thing. Pools of blood were forming and growing on their own. His leg sank into one of those pools, beginning to disappear, leaving skin exposed. Gordoth got it out and tried to stay out of the pools. This was truly demonic sorcery. He tried to dodge another fireball, but the strike was inevitable that's why he simply lifted his hands in the air and started casting a superior healing spell, leaving no sign of the wounds he was forced to endure. The demon laughed and threw more fire balls at Gordoth, who warded and started running forth, charging at the Lord of Hell. The beast tried to invert the spell, creating an Inferno that was flying towards The Dragonborn, but the ward was the strongest he could create and held for a few seconds, just enough for the Dovahkiin to land a blow, wich exposed the organs of the demon but couldn't harm them. Then Shaliina shot in the belly of Azmodan, killing his organs. Gordoth stabbed the beast once, twice and leaped backwards, next to Shaliina. "Noooooooooo!" The Lord of Hell sunk into a circle behind him and all of the blood the demon had shot towards them in a torrent of blood. But it didn't harm them, it healed the party of two. Gordoth was now looking at a black orb floating in the air. Shaliina smiled, because it might be the end of her mission. A blue circle appeared and Tyrael among with two women appeared. The first woman was merely twenty, she had light brown hair and a bow on her back. The second was a mage, with long black hair and a staff in her hand.

"Leah, fast, absorb the soul of Azmodan so it could end!" Said the older woman and the younger lifted her hands, casting a spell. Red leashes flung around the orb and absorbed it. After this, the older woman sighed.

"Good. Now, let's prepare the ritual." She said and got back in the portal, along with Leah and Tyrael. Gordoth felt stunned. They came only to take the soul and without 'bye bye' went back to the keep.

"My work is done. Come, let us go back to Bastion's keep and celebrate." Shaliina said. Gordoth nodded and walked next to her as she started casting some sort of spell. The same blue portal appeared and Gordoth walked in after the Demon Hunter. They were transported into Bastion's Keep. Shaliina sighed and walked in front of a man with black armor on red spots.

"Will you tell me where are the others?" She asked him. He smiled.

"They are in the armory, probably celebrating. You should join them!" The warrior answered. Shaliina nodded and was about to walked down the stairs but then stared at Gordoth, surprise all over her face. She was confused.

"What's with your eyes?" She asked. Gordoth winced. This happened.

"Something bad will happen. Go!" He said and rushed deeper into the keep. What they saw was... Merely a grotesque picture. Warriors lay dead on the ground, the whole floor covered in blood. No sign of invasion. No sign of attack. Just dead. Shaliina was horrified. She rushed towards a staircase that led up, where the blood road led. And there, more blood and dead men lay. The demon hunter winced. She wasn't prepared for this. Their mightiest victory was covered with their own blood. Gordoth heard someone talking.

"How long has it been since you decided to betray us, Adria?" Tyrael's voice sounded. A laugh.

"It's been since Leah's birth! Do you know who her father was? It was Diablo himself! That's why she has those powers! She was supposed to be a vessel for him! The plan is finally in action! And you, Tyrael, will now die, so you won't stop out plans!" The older female's voice was heard. Then, the cries of Tyrael, who was surely in pain. Gordoth ran up the stairs to see how Adria was drilling into Tyrael's body with ethereal chains. Gordoth yelled and pulled her attention, but it was too late. Leah screamed and her skin became gray, her eyes yellow and her hair darkened.

"I am free now!" She said with a voice that was terrifying, as it should be. Gordoth yelled again and rammed Adria with his sword, killing her on place. Then he turned to face Leah, who's whole appearance was different.

"Hah, kill her. I don't need that weakling anymore. I will now go to the High Heavens and recreate the Realm of Terror there. You lost." Gordoth charged, his body covered with golden light, dark lines running through it. He hit Leah's stomach with inhuman strength, wich made her groan. The Dragonborn prepared for another attack, but was surprised when the girl simply waved at him, sending tremendous force to push him over the edge. He held, shouting:

"_**FAAS RU MAAR!**_" The thu'um burned his throat, wich has never happened before, but he was too angry to care for it. That shout was supposed to scare the girl, but she only laughed.

"Your power is greater than an archangel's, but you are no match for the Prime Evil, Mortal. I am Diablo, The Lord Of Terror!" She lifted her hands and electrical fire started pouring from them, showering The Dovahkiin. He warded, absorbing the colossal heat and the damage it could do to him, He dived under the Inferno and kicked Diablo in the stomach, then swung his sword, expecting to feel flesh being cut through. Instead, the sword created a dumb thump and bounced off of the girl's wrist. She laughed and slammed her hands together, creating an Inferno all around him burning his whole being. He screamed, his healing magic working at the max, but the strength of that attack was tremendous. He couldn't stand in it and fell to his knees. The demon lord laughed again. Gordoth roared and tackled out of the circle of fire and shot to his feet. He was about to use another shout. He opened his mouth and tremendous power surrounded him.

"_**KRII LU NAAS!**_" The mythical energy, burning his throat, blasted the demon backwards, covering Diablo in red mist. He laughed then Gordoth did his thing. He leaped at Diablo and stabbed him in the stomach, that attack being successful. Dark blood poured from the hole in the stomach of the girl, she groaned. The Dragonborn was preparing to land another attack when suddenly an arm grabbed his neck and lifted him from the ground. It was black, claws and talons covered it. It was Diablo's.

"It seems you weren't so pathetic. Well, either way, you can't stop me. I am endless. I am Evil Itself!" He yelled and threw the Dovahkiin over the fence, then turned against Shaliina, who was only looking as if she was frozen. Diablo smiled and opened a red portal.

"Now, nepfalem, I am going to High Heavens. You won't be able to stop me, in Seven days, the world will be mine." He said as he disappeared in the portal. Shaliina was staring at the portal. What did she witness. Gordoth, the completely alien creature kill Adria and then attack Diablo, being able to stand against the lord of Hell for so long. Tyrael groaned, separating her from her thoughts.

"He fought. He thought he has a chance. But now... He is probably dead. After the damage he suffered, he wouldn't be able to survive the fall. Now, you are the only help, Shaliina. Enter the portal and save the High Heavens. Save the world." He whispered and fell to the darkness. He was alive. He would survive. But Shaliina worried about Gordoth, that fully alien man who was able to fight Diablo... She sighed, the demon hunter had only seven days to save the world. And so she entered the portal, leaving all behind.


	5. Chapter 5: Diablo

**Pfew, Done! Hope you like it and please review!**

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Izual screamed as her bolt pierced his heart, killing the demon. The cursed angel fell on the ground and his body slowly began degrading into pieces. Shaliina walked past the corpse and followed Tyrael, who was leading the battle. Three days after Gordoth was thrown of the edge, she was slowly progressing to Diablo. This was the day, she knew. Today, she would banish Diablo forever. As they entered a hall, Imperius appeared before them. He had that wound from his battle with Diablo, but wouldn't die. He was the Archangel of Valor, how could he? His wings had the unique orange color, His armor bronze and gold, His spear sharp and ready. He blamed her for Diablo's uprise. He didn't like her, as she did.

"I warned you!" He said, his echoing voice didn't scare her. "But you wouldn't understand!" He continued. Tyrael stepped forth and spat on the infected floor of Heaven.

"Yes, you did, but would you fight Diablo? He is moving to destroy the Silver Arch! We must hurry!" Tyrael shouted, then Imperius waved with his hand and the mortal flew backwards.

"I will fight you if you try to cross that gate! Do not!" Imperius said and turned.

"I will cross it. I must. I am nepfalem. I am the hero, I must do my job. Complete my quest. And will fight you even if you are stronger than me." Shaliina said, pointing the crossbow at the Archangel. He laughed and blinked in front of her swinging with the spear. She vaulted away, luckily, but he traversed forth. He truly had the upper hand, he would defeat her. He was an Archangel, the strongest one too. She winced. Something was going on underneath them. Imperius looked down. So did Shaliina. They saw black wings, bear fur and golden armor. Gordoth. He flew up and landed in front of the Archangel, pointing his sword at Imperius. The angel laughed.

"You are? Never mind. Leave Heaven now and I might let you live." He said. Gordoth didn't move a muscle. Shaliina smiled.

"But we will save you! We are here to fight Diablo!" She exclaimed. Imperius roared and blinked behind Gordoth, he was aiming for her. His spear was going to hit her if the Dragonborn's hand didn't grab the handle. He pulled and hit his forehead into Imperius' head, then left the spear and pointed his sword at the angel. The Archangel laughed and charged, his speed really challenging, but Gordoth blocked and spun in a way wich made the Archangel drop his weapon, then he pointed the blade at Imperius' neck, poking lightly. The angel roared.

"Fine! Go and fight Diablo. But if you fail... Was this... Oh no, he got to the Arch faster than -" Imperius couldn't finish as some sort of darkness covered every angel in the area and they lost coscucness.

"What happened?" Gordoth asked. His voice was the same, but his eyes were like before three days. Dark like the night sky and stars shone in them. Tyrael shook his head.

"Diablo reached the Arch. He started corrupting it. You must hurry." He said, clasping his stomach. Shaliina nodded and walked through the gate, onto a hallway with statues of angels. There, in the middle stood Diablo, channeling some sort of spell. He turned and roared.

"You again? I thought you died in that fall... Oh well, some more fun..." He growled and prepared. Shaliina opened fire, while Gordoth charged. Diablo had six arms and a tail, he had only two. But he was the Dragonborn and would win the battle. His sword hit one of Diablo's left hands but bounced, with the demon using it to throw a fireball at Gordoth. The dragonborn tackled right and with an axe kick slammed Diablo's leg. He didn't even move, only laughed. The demon struck Gordoth's stomach, wich resulted in him flying a few feet before landing, but the Dragonborn landed on his feet. The warrior turned towards the demon and cast a spell, wich released enormous amounts of lighting at the lord of hell. They were blocked by a fireball wich Diablo shot, then the lord of terror leaped in front of Gordoth and swung with his hands, but the Dragonborn dodged, ducking and slashing the demon's legs. Diablo stood still and kicked the Dovahkiin, pushing him backwards. The warrior spun and hit Diablo three times in a row, then cast the spell dragon skin, wich made his skin hard as a rock or even more and slammed the stomach of the Prime Evil. Surprisingly, it worked, the demon made one step backwards, but almost immediately regained his footing and slashed through Gordoth's legs with his tail, making the mortal fall. The Dragonborn dodged by jumping and kicking Diablo's head. The demon staggered but did not fall. Then, Gordoth leaped backwards and formed his hands into a few runes, then prepared to do something. Electricity covered his shoulders and ran through his arms, in a torrent. It was a lightning storm, shot directly at Diablo. The blast pushed the demon backwards, wich made him laugh. Then, Gordoth merged fire with the blast and the force pushed Diablo back, the demon finally fell. This was... His piss off point. The monster disappeared into a cone of shadow and appeared behind Gordoth, who had time just to turn and try blocking when the lord of Hell slammed his chest, blasting him backwards at least ten feet. Shaliina was still shooting at the demon, but none of her bolts could penetrate the skin (Imagine level 30 vs Diablo Inferno diff and 4 people public game). He turned and just caged her, blocking her shots. Gordoth stood up and spat some blood, for the blast was vicious. Diablo laughed.

"I was just toying with you, but after those hits you landed I can't let you do it more!" The Lord of Hell said. The Dragonborn didn't seem to be able to answer, as if he was... Mute. It was almost true, but it wasn't. Every word Gordoth said burned his throat, making him endure such pain that he would loose cautiousness the second he said a word. Dovahkiin smirked and hit his sword in the ground, setting it on fire, but without doing any damage to the blade. Diablo lifted both his hands and blew the same electrically - burning Inferno Gordoth stood against the first battle he led with the demon, but that was much stronger, braking the ward and forcing him to heal his wounds. Diablo laughed and hit the ground, sending out about twenty fireballs crawling towards Gordoth at impossible speed. He tried to dodge but was blasted by the spheres and flew backwards hitting the wall. Diablo laughed.

"No. You don't stand the chance now." The words of the demon were when he collected a ball of fire and threw it on the ground. Upon making contact, the sphere became a pool of infernal fire, it's heat was really hideous. Gordoth held a scream, leaped off of the wall and extended his hand. There, in it was forming something. A sphere of pure light, wich could only work on beings of darkness. But, just before the ball was fully finished, it blew into his hand, showering him with healing. So, a healing spell, Diablo thought. He formed a sphere of his own, but tainted with darkness and evil. He smiled when Gordoth clutched the sword's handle much harder. Then, all of a sudden, the Dragonborn left the sword fall on the floor, moving his right foot forward. Little fragments of the ground started floating around him. His hair imitated, flying straight up. His eyes were the same, dark and cosmic. He started breathing heavily, his breaths shaken and weak, as if he was dying. His lips separated from one another and the word came.

"_**FUS...**_" Was the first word, lightning formed under his feet, the room started shaking.

"_**RO...**_" Was the second word, wich brough thunder upon them, the whole floor started braking, freely scars started running through it. Some power was forming infront of the human. Then, the last word came, completing the shout.

"_**DA!**_" More thunder fell, lightning hit Diablo, burning his back. A cry of pain came from the demon's mouth. Power, like none other, flew in a cone in front of Gordoth, blasting the demon with such streight that it flew and clashed into one of the crystal that were pointing from the ground. The walls broke, leaving the sieling fall on them, the floor shook, but didn't fail. The Dragonborn kneeled and started coughing, breathing heavily. He was in Hell on earth, he thought. Diablo was stunned. What manner of power was that? That man was stronger than nepfalem, surely. But how? The demon laughed, upon realizing.

"You are not from that world..." He said, still laughing. Gordoth couldn't reply, his whole being was tormented for saying three words. He coughed, black spots were covering his vision. But, he stood up, and slowly walked to Diablo. On the way, he picked up the sword, ignited it, electrified it, made it freezing to touch. The demon was still laughing when he stood in front of it. All that time Shaliina was watching. And was... Amazed won't be the right word. Stunned too. So she just watched.

"Hah, kill me. Let me taste your strength." Diablo laughed, the sudden grip of madness left him. The demon watched, horrified, as Gordoth lifted his sword, the elements raging around the blade. And then, he slammed the edge into the body of the demon. Diablo fell from the crystal, cries of pain filling the , light started spreading from his wound, burning with holy energies. Gordoth allowed his blade to fall, while his hands followed it. Diablo was still screaming, but those sounds grew weaker as the blackness was taking over him. Shaliina was now free from the cage and ran towards Gordoth to help him. He didn't look good, meaning his ravaged armor and burned fur. She was just about to place a hand on his shoulder when the floor collapsed and they started falling.

Tyrael was staring at the arch, fully revealed and shining. They succeeded. But where were they? And then, the mortal archangel saw two figures falling down. He winced.

Shaliina grabbed onto Gordoth. His breathing wasn't steady, no, not at all. His mouth was adorned with blood. The wind was blowing around them, slashing, slamming and stabbing her. The Dragonborn possessed such powers, to be able to kill Diablo all alone? Truly a heroic deed. Gordoth focused his look at the woman in front of him. He recognized her, it was Shaliina. Dovahkiin lifted his hand and they stopped. She stared at him, then looked down, up, right and left. They were... Frozen in the air. She sighed, knowing it was good for them, she could rest a little and raise her false wings, but he... He would not be able. She looked at him, hurt and unconscious. She felt something cold around his armor as his hands held her. Shaliina saw dark void wrapping itself around him, pushing her backwards and him deep into the darkness, immolating the warrior. She winced when time returned and her body was affected by gravity again. Shaliina forced the dark archangel wings form on her back and flew up, asking herself what happened with Gordoth, that man who defeated Diablo.


End file.
